The Misadventure of Mrs Hudson
by IrregularHonour
Summary: Mrs Hudson runs into trouble- and is delivered in an unexpected fashion. A drabble based on an OC story I am currently writing.


I see her in my mind's eye even now- a dreadful vision of swirling cruelty outlined in the starkness of the moonlit alleyway. She might almost have vanished among the shadows so grim and sombre was her clothing. She did not. She stood in the middle of them as they danced fantastically about her. Their knives swung out repeatedly and fell again on nothing.

However the song of her blade was the song of death. With every sweep, every twist and turn another man cried out and died. I could see vague outlines of bodies upon the pavement. The undulating shadows seemed to abruptly end, forming a three foot circle about the assassin. No man ventured closer then that line. No man could venture within four feet and live.

The rumours had proven themselves as truth. I had not believed it. I had shrugged it off at first as some old wives tale. However as the stories repeated themselves and grew I learned that not all such tales were without foundation. Yet the extent of her skill reported by the papers had been incredible. I had laughed at it as an impossibility. Perhaps, had she some organisation of cunning and ruthless men to aid her, I might have considered it. Yet this woman was purported to act alone.

It was the stuff of fairy tale and legend. Such fancies have no place in a reasonable woman's mind. I consider myself to be a reasonable woman. My feet are planted firmly on God's own soil, and I will not venture to believe in such fanciful nonsense. No man, and especially no woman, is capable of such a extraordinary ability to kill. Yet here it was, the evidence clear before me. I lay and marvelled.

My name is Mrs Lucinda Hudson. You will have heard of me perhaps as the landlady of the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. Holmes was then away in Scotland. If it were not for this I should not have been so foolish. He had warned me to avoid leaving Baker Street. I disobeyed him and so fell into the clutches of these wicked men.

I would have curbed my natural rebellion at his seemingly unreasonable demand had it not been for Jessica. My sister had sent a telegram and requested me to come to her house, saying that it was most urgent that she talk with me. She did not give a reason.

You can imagine my irritation with her when I arrived, only to discover that the serious discussion consisted of little more then a updated account of her son's exploits. I am not very interested in the sea, and the fact that Benjamin had been promoted to captainship did not seem to warrant the expense of a telegram, let alone one which called me away from more important duties.

I scolded my sister soundly and started on my return home. I should have remained with Jessica, for it had grown dark, and she did at least have the courtesy to extend an invitation. However I was still angry with her, and rather foolishly decided to emphasise my displeasure by insisting on a departure.

The night was a fine one, and when I did not immediately discover a cab I started to walk. I did not mean to make the return journey by foot. Holmes's warnings, as well as the gruesome reports of the papers had made a morbid impression on my mind and it was my wish to return to Baker Street by the swiftest means possible.

However a cabby did not eventuate, and by the time I had reached the end of the street I knew I should turn back.

I stopped and glanced behind me in the direction of my sister's house, and it was then that I saw them. Three men had materialised out of the shadows and were walking across from the other side of the street. I could not see their faces, for they were masked.

I admit I panicked. I dropped my bag and ran as fast as I could- in the direction away from them- and alas, away from my only refuge of safety. I am not a young woman and my strength is quickly spent. They caught up with me with humiliating ease. I cried out as one man grasped my arm and wrenched me about, however another steel-like grip had fastened over my mouth, and nothing more then a muffled groaning sound could escape my lips.

They had evidently come prepared. One man balled up a dirty rag and thrust it into my mouth,and then tied another around my head to keep it in place. I gagged on it helplessly as another man caught my wrists and fastened them roughly together with a bit of twine.

I fought as well as I could, but there were three of them, and they were much stronger then I. They then took me by the shoulders and half dragged me, half carried me down a nearby alley way- into the darkness and away from the kindly policemen who might have come to my aid.

How I wished I had not disobeyed Mr Holmes then!

I was half sick with fear, and I almost fainted once or twice during that dreadful journey. I do not know where they took me. I do not even know why they decided to walk rather then take some other conveyance. All I know is that I couldn't see very well in the darkness and I was constantly tripping over various obstacles in my path. If it had not been for the men holding me I would have fallen.

They held me though, and their grip was mercilessly tight. I have a feeling that they wanted me very badly, and I knew it was to do with Sherlock Holmes and the case on which he was working.

I tried to be like my boarder and endeavoured to compose my wits as much as possible by taking observance of our surroundings. There was not much to see in that lighting, but I realized with a shock that the three men were no longer alone.

There were others... many of them. Following and watching us as we walked. They were obviously in league with my captors and I heard the three men speak in some foreign language. It sounded to me like Russian, but I am not very good with foreign languages.

Then I realized. Russian foreigners! These were among the criminals Holmes was working against. The anarchists who murdered so many poor souls in such a horrific brutal manner- and I was their prisoner!

I lost consciousness with the horror of it. When I awoke again I was lying upon the cold cobblestone pavers, unable to move because of the ropes about my wrists.

I thought for a moment they had left me there deliberately.

It was then that I saw her.


End file.
